Oedipus
by EbonyIvoryy
Summary: Ed does not have a mommy complex.


**Title:** "Oedipus"  
**Author: **Ebonyivoryy / theothardus  
**Rating:** T. Implications and stuff.  
**Summary: **Ed does not have a mommy complex.  
**Disclaimer: **Hiromu doesn't approve of this. She doesn't approve of this at all.  
**Notes: **Some implications, sure. NO INCEST THOUGH I SWEAR—  
**A/N: **I wanted to address another aspect of Ed and Winry's relationship in this fic, which is the whole belief that if you're male, you are attracted to a woman that is like your mother, and if you're female, you are attracted to a man that is like your father. Freud refers to it as the Oedipus Complex. I just worded it "mommy complex" because it sounds more simple. I always thought that, given what happened to both Edward and Winry's parents, they would have that sort of affection for each other. Have you seen that ending in Brotherhood where Trisha reached out to Ed in his dream and then it shows him sleeping in bed and Winry looking down on him? That scene always gave me that kind of idea, with the reflection between Winry and Trisha. This is very much a food-for-thought story.

Now, now. Think amongst yourselves; I'm off to write some Yugo/Aki because Arakawa ships are just gorgeous.

**XXX**

Don't misunderstand. Ed does not have a mommy complex.

It's just that—well, how is this to be explained without sounding like the latter? Ever since him and his childhood friend became intimate, her touches ignited the vulnerability in him.

The adult armor he had worn for so long came off in those minutes of lounging by pillows, huddling under sheets, sneaking into closets or train station bathrooms. Even something as simple as making eye contact or eating the food she made had his shoulders easing out of independence and manhood.

There were naps in bed; Winry resting by his side, her sunny-haired head plopped on his shoulder. Years before, when Ed took naps, he had an unconscious habit of placing his hand on his stomach. This was probably because his mother used to rub his tummy until he was lulled into a deep sleep. Now, and for many years to come, he would wake up out of bittersweet dreams to find his wife rubbing his stomach in circles and the beautiful blonde's smiling face replacing another beautiful woman's.

The way Winry's palms lied flat against his chest, the way her long nails raked behind his ears and along his golden mane, the way her soft mouth fluttered over his jaw... it all triggered... some sort of maternal instinct. Her affection made him feel safe, comforted, looked after.

Even after sex—the one thing that made him see Winry differently than a beloved family member—he went straight for the comfort, burying his face in her breasts. She would hug him, hold him, whisper lovingly into his temple. His caramel eyes would glaze over with child-like adoration. He would grab at her as if she were to combust, as if he couldn't survive in the world without her hand to feed him, or her strength to support him.

Whenever Edward fingered Winry's light bits of hair, he couldn't help but correlate that with the chestnut strands he used to pull as a baby. Winry's humming voice, which was heard only when she was bathing or tinkering with something, set him back to the voice that read to him and his brother in the night.

Seeing Winry do similar things with their own children gave Ed a special case of nostalgia. Was it strange that his libido hopped every time he saw Winry breastfeeding, or leaning over a crib as she spoke softly to their little one? Perhaps that was just Nature's call, telling him to jump her so they could make a few more little ones in the spring.

His libido was at its highest, however, when his wife was pregnant. Some say that women are most attractive at one of two times—when they are menstruating, or when they are pregnant—so his needs weren't illogical. It wasn't just attraction, though. He wanted to nail the hell out of her.

Who could blame him? She was just _so goddamn sexy_, with her locks that kissed her rosy cheeks, that danced at her delicate, ivory back and curved around her swelling breasts. How enhanced her curves had become, from her hardened belly to her rounded rump, and the way her bellybutton poked out of all of her clothes. She even gained a few pimples, not that he paid attention, for her skin was glowing more vivaciously than ever.

It wasn't only the outer appearance. Just the fact that she had the capacity to do what no alchemy book could, carry a child, _his _progeny, gave him that special feeling that lurked at the bottom of his stomach.

So, in short, no. Despite of the way Trisha left her sons, though Death's door, and despite of how much Edward missed her, yearned for her, dreamed of her, he did not have a mommy complex. His relationship with women was a perfectly healthy one.

Still, one could only wonder why Winry's scent gave him a whiff of his mother's perfume, or why Edward's strong hugs triggered memories of when another man used to hug Winry like that; a man she called Daddy.

**_fin_**


End file.
